


This Is What I Did Right

by TazersKaner (msrogersstark)



Series: Broken [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New York Rangers, Rare Pairing, Stanley Cup Finals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msrogersstark/pseuds/TazersKaner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mats finally makes it inside the room and he stands there awkwardly in the foyer, twisting his hands in his tie and taking sharp breaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is What I Did Right

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I love Mats Zuccarello.  
> \--

Mats is silent. Mats is never silent. He doesn't say a word after the penalty, just sits on the bench until they can go to the dressing room. He doesn't act upset, but Marty can tell. He knows Mats well enough. Mats talks only when prompted, which isn't normal. He slips into Norwegian accidentally, as if he isn't thinking in English. That's not normal. His lips quiver whenever words are directed at him, not that Marty's watching /that/ closely.  
  
They're all filing into the arena when Marty finds himself standing next to a still-quiet Mats.  
"I think, you should come home with me tonight." Marty says softly, tugging on the jacket of Mats' suit jacket and pulling him out of the line, marching robotically into the elevator. Mats follows him, nearly no protest.  
They take the stairs, despite their aching legs. Marty doesn't want to chance it with their teammates and he just wants to get Mats talking again.  
Mats lags behind, the closer they get to Marty's room. Marty opens his door and heads into the room, going straight to the fridge for some Gatorade. Mats finally makes it inside the room and he stands there awkwardly in the foyer, twisting his hands in his tie and taking sharp breaths. Leaving the Gatorade on the counter, Marty walks towards Mats.  
"You'll ruin your tie." He bats at Mats' hands and pulls him into the make-shift kitchen.  
"Drink this." He forces a bottle into one of Mats hands and turns to find something besides powerbars, pizza and pasta to eat. He swears, finding nothing, and turns around when he hears a thump behind him.  
It's appears that everything caught up to Mats. His Gatorade bottle lies on the floor and he's holding his face in his hands.  
"Hey." Marty walks towards him. Mats slips away, back towards the door. His hands slip on the handle which gives Marty just the right amount of time to catch him.  
"Stop." He presses his hand onto the rough fabric of Mats' jacket, holding him still. Mats is bigger than him, he could push Marty away if he wanted but he makes no move. Instead, he turns to look at Marty and just breaks.  
Marty watches momentarily before tugging a sobbing Mats behind him into the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed, near the headboard and kneels next to him.  
"What's going on?" Marty pulls off Mats' jacket and gets to work on his tie.  
Mats, eyes wide, watches him work, tears still flowing down his face.  
"I ruined it for us." He manages before dissolving back into sobbing. Marty frowns but stays silent, waiting.  
"I took that penalty, and they scored, like right away. And then they won. The entire thing. Hockey is over!" Mats continues. Marty kicks off his own shoes and slips out of his suit, reaching for sweatpants and a shirt. He slips his hands around one of Mats’ shoes, slipping it off and then working on the other.

“Just say something!” Mats’ screams at Marty, kicking into his hand.

“Breathe.” Marty replies, and gives him a soft look. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Mats shakes his head, looking away from Marty. “It’s all my fault.”

“It is not.” Marty climbed up the bed and sat next to Mats, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’re a team, we win together and we lose together.” 

“But it just…” Mats brakes off, taking a deep breath and coughing hard. He tucks his face into Marty’s chest. “Of course it had to be a bad penalty. That’s all I’m good for.”

Marty, recognizing that he wasn’t going to get anything remotely near logic from Mats, settles for pressing kisses along the top of his head and across his cheek. He strokes a hand up and down the side of Mats’ body.

They sit in comfortable silence, Mats’ dissolving into a coughing fit every so often but shaking and sobbing less with each passing minute.

When it had been awhile since he heard a sob from Mats, Marty spoke up.

“Do you want to go get a drink with the boys? Or should we stay in?”

Mats looks up at him, fear in his eyes. “Can I just stay here?” He whimpers.

Marty smiles softly. “Of course.” He slips off the bed and walks towards his suitcase, returning with a pair of pyjama pants. “Put these on.” He hands them to Mats and leaves him to change.

 

Marty grabs a fresh bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and sets it on the counter, planning on taking it to Mats. He bends down, a towel in hand, to clean up the spill from the previous bottle.

“You know, you look really good in sweatpants.” 

Marty jumps, turning around self-consciously, to see that Mats has emerged from his bedroom and is taking a sip of the Gatorade on the counter.

“That’s not something you hear everyday.”

“Well not me, but I’m sure you hear that everyday.”

Marty blushes and walks towards Mats. “This is the Mats that I know.”

Mats holds out his arms and smiles softly. His eyes are ringed in red still but he’d manages to wash the tear tracks off of his face. Marty’s pyjama pants cling to him in all the right places and he's wearing a Tampa Bay Lightning hoodie that he must have discovered in Marty’s suitcase.

Marty tossea the cloth into the sink and hugs Mats tightly.

“Are you ready to listen now?” He smirks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mats pulls him towards the sofa.

“Well for one thing, it’s 3 in the morning in New York right now. Not exactly the right time to be having heart-felt conversations.”

“Well, we did just lose the Stanley Cup, time doesn’t apply to us now.” Mats replies, raising an eyebrow at Marty, as if daring him to argue with logic.

Marty just shakes his head. “You didn’t lose the game for us. You just made a mistake.”

Mats sighs. “You mean, like always?”

“That’s another discussion. I don’t blame you for the loss.”

“No, but that’s because you love me.”

Marty opens his mouth to protest and closes it again. Mats smirks.

“Fine. I do love you. But the team doesn’t blame you either.”

Mats shrugs. 

Marty took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Doesn’t feel real does it?”

“It feels pretty real.” Mats says dejectedly. “I think I’ve got tears to prove it.”

Marty lies back on the sofa, pulling Mats down with him. “On the bright side, we’ve got summer now.”

Mats just chuckles, mumbling something about optimism and closes his eyes, burying his head in Marty’s chest.

“You don’t always make mistakes.” Marty points out. “This,” he gestures around, mostly at them. “This wasn’t a mistake.”

Mats looks up at him, smile working his way onto his face. “Nah. This is what I did right.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback?


End file.
